Dream Weaver
by andwalkoffstage
Summary: Sam has interesting dreams, dreams that sometimes come true. Wincest, Slash, be warned.


More and more frequently Dean had been woken from a deep sleep, in the dead of night, by the sounds of guttural moans and the occasional flying object. He still wasn't used to Sam's night terrors, and despite himself, it annoyed the shit out of him to be woken up from his own dreams, which seemed to be a lot more pleasant than Sam's. But, once he was awake and the blood returned to his brain, he would fly to his brother's side.

"Wake up, Sam!", Dean put Sam's hands to his sides and pushed his bangs off his forehead. He would have to remember to remind Sam to get a haircut.

Sam's eyes darted wildly behind his eyelids, and his entire body trembled. Sweat droplets formed pools on his chest, Dean wondered how long he'd been like this before Sam's pillow landed on him. Dean grabbed Sam by the shoulders and pulled him into the most upright position he could manage. He put Sam's back against the headboard and let his head droop until his chin was resting on his own chest.

"Come on, Sammy...you gotta snap out of it!," Sam convulsed and tensed, knocking his head on the bed frame.

"Alright, that's it, if you don't wake up in ten seconds, I am going to slap you.", He paused for a response," No? Well, that was your warning."

Dean pulled back his left hand and let it land on Sam's cheek, it wasn't a light hit, but it could have been worse; he could have used his right hand. Before Dean could even pull back, Sam's fist collided with his jaw.

"Dean?! What the hell?", Sam was awake, "Did you slap me?!"

"Dude..you just punched me in the face."

"You slapped me!"

"You were having one of your fits, I was trying to wake you up...and to be fair, I did warn you.", Dean sat back on his heels and massaged his jaw.

"I...no, I wasn't...", Sam rubbed his eyes, Dean stared at him...dumbfounded.

"You...weren't. So, throwing your pillow across the room? The grunty, shaky thing? Did I mention you punched me right in the face?", Dean looked like he might return the favor.

"It was a dream...it just wasn't _that_ kind of dream. Could we just go back to sleep if I let you punch me back?"

"You know what? No, no we can't. Because you have these horrible, crippling nightmares, Sam, and I try to help you through it...and that's fine; you're my brother, I can do that for you. But, now I'm supposed to be able to tell the difference between _those_ dreams and _other_ dreams? And if I can't...you punch me in the face?", Dean seemed genuinely agitated.

"I'm sorry I punched you, Dean. I'm sorry, but I can't control what I do when I'm sleeping. Sleep now? Please?"

"At least tell me what the dream was. I've earned that, right?"

"Why does it matter, Dean? Go to sleep, come on.", there was a slight undertone of embarrassment that Dean couldn't ignore.

"Wait...wait...wait...the grunting, the sweating...the convulsing?! Oh, my God, Sammy! Were you having a sex dream?!", Dean grabbed Sam's discarded pillow off the floor and threw it at him.

Sam let the pillow hit him in the face, and then put it under his head and laid down.

"Like you've never had one."

"No, I can't say that I've ever had a sex dream so physical that someone was seriously worried about my well-being. Dude...who was it?"

"Go to bed, Dean."

"Tell me who it was!"

"I'm going to sleep. Whether you spend the rest of the night sitting there asking me personal questions, is up to you."

"Was it someone embarrassing? Was it Daphne?"

Sam raised his head in alarm, "Daphne, as in Scooby Doo?"

"Yeah..."

"No, it wasn't Daphne from Scooby Doo, you freak."

"I'm not leavin' you alone until you give me some details."

"Why are you so interested in _my_ sex dreams?"

"Sam, you didn't see...you. I've had real sex that wasn't that good."

"Fine, Dean, fine. It was in the Impala. Okay? Can I--"

"No, you can't! You...had sex, in my _baby_?! You've tainted her!", Dean recoiled in shock and disgust that was only half serious.

"Dean, cut it out, it was a _dream_, I've never had sex in your car! I'm sleeping now, not talking anymore."

"No, you're not asleep _now, _see, because if you were you'd be hyperventilating and moaning like a girl."

Sam sighed heavily and pushed Dean off his bed with both feet.

"Fine, Sammy...get back to defiling everything I hold dear.", Dean smirked. "Sleep tight, don't let the bed bugs bite...or you know, do anything else to you."

Dean reclaimed his bed with a belly flop, and chuckled himself into a comfortable position.

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Sam leaned his head against the passenger side window, and watched the dashed lines in the middle of the road almost become one, consistent line, as Dean sped up to pass a "slow-moving" Mustang on the highway.

"It kills me, you've got a Mustang, dude...speed up!", Dean spoke into his rear-view, as if the driver of the other car could read his lips.

"He's going speed limit, Dean. Maybe he has warrants out for his arrest and isn't trying to get pulled over...no, wait..that's us and what _we _should be doing."

Dean sighed and almost seemed to let up on the gas, but it was probably just Sam's imagination. They'd been driving for a while, but still weren't close to their destination. Something about a poltergeist in eastern Montana, honestly they didn't really know. But, there they were, on the highway...just driving. Both tired and unreasonably grumpy.

"Next exit," Sam started, his head bouncing lightly on the glass, "let's find a motel. I need to sleep somewhere that's not moving and eat something that doesn't come in a wrapper."

"College boy wants _fancy _food does he?", Dean can go from fine to completely pissed off faster than the Impala from 0-60.

"Dean, I just want to sit somewhere and eat a meal. Stop being a bitch about it."

Dean huffed, "Right, next exit, I'll drop you off and you can eat your meal. Just grab the first bus to Montana and I'll see you there, okay?"

Sam really wanted to make a comment, but he also really wanted to live to see the sunrise...so he thought better of it. He had a feeling they would _not _be taking that next exit, or the one after that. Dean wanted to find a motel, too, but he'd be damned if he was going to let Sam think that he was doing it because _he _suggested it. No, he'd rather just drive until he couldn't anymore and sleep in the car.

About two hours later Dean pulled onto a dirt road off the highway and shut the car off.

"Seriously?" Sam grunted, "because I said I was tired and hungry?"

"Get in the back, I want to stretch out."

"You get in the back, Dean, this is bullshit. How about _I _drive us to the nearest motel?"

"Screw you. My car. My rules. My bed is the front seat. Now, move."

Sam scoffed and started to pull himself into the backseat, head first. Maybe his foot hit Dean in the shoulder. Maybe it was an accident. Either way, before Sam could even get his feet on the floorboards, Dean was joining him in the backseat...fists flying.

"Dean, stop!" Sam had one arm protecting his face, and with the other tried to push Dean away. But, Dean had the high ground, he was upright and angry.

When it became obvious he wasn't going to calm down on his own, Sam decided he'd have to defend himself, before he was bruised beyond recognition. He grabbed Dean by the wrists and, with effort, pushed his arms to his side. Then he had Dean pinned, all the older Winchester's advantage dissolved. Sam pushed him into the seat, with all his weight.

"Get. Off. Me."

"Dean, if I get off of you...you're going to hit me, again."

"No, I won't. I'm done."

Dean was skilled in a number of ways...acting? Not one of those skills.

"Um, no. You need to seriously calm down, or I'm not budging."

"You need to get off me before something happens to you." Dean spat through gritted teeth and fake grin.

Sam was chuckling now, he didn't really mean to; he could see how serious Dean was, but the whole thing was just funny.

He shouldn't have laughed. The laughing not only angered his brother, but also distracted Sam enough that he loosened his grip on Dean's wrists. And before he could register what had happened Dean had completely reversed their standings.

"Okay, Dean..." Sam wondered if he was about to get the beating of his life, "I'm sorry, okay?"

Dean realized Sam wasn't fighting back anymore and he was just straddling him in the backseat of the Impala. It was a weird feeling, holding his brother down and leaning over him. But, he suddenly found that he wasn't mad anymore, and punching Sam was the last thing on his mind.

Sam watched as Dean lost the angry glint in his eyes and a genuine, good-natured smirk spread across his face.

Dean let go of Sam's arms and rested his hands on his chest. He could feel Sam's heart beating fast from their scuffle. Dean's heart was beating fast for a completely different reason. He slid one hand up Sam's chest and squeezed the back of his neck, while leaning forward until he could feel his lips slide against Sam's neck, up to his jaw.

"Dean…", or at least it sounded like he was saying his name, it could have just been a breathy sigh. Sam's hands slid up Dean's sides and tangled themselves in his t-shirt in a rushed attempt at removing it.

Dean continued to kiss along Sam's jaw, before hovering over his mouth. Sam pulled restlessly on Dean's wrinkled, white t-shirt, trying to get him closer. Dean grazed noses with him for a moment, his 5 o'clock shadow roughly rubbed against Sam's smooth face. After what seemed like an eternity, lips met lips.

They were lost in a whirlwind of haphazardly shed clothing, wandering hands and warm tongues. No words spoken, but Sam really did moan like a girl.

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Dean awoke to a sharp jab in the ribs, and Sam leaning over him.

"Yeah, that's really funny, Dean."

"What's funny about you waking me up?", Dean glanced at the clock, it was 7:00…in the _morning._ "The sun's barely up, Sam, what's your problem?"

"Oh, so you're going to pretend you weren't just doing a _hilarious_ reenactment of the…incident last night?", Sam looked annoyed, not to mention tired. That dream must have really taken it out of him.

"Sam…you…I…what?" That's as coherent as Dean Winchester agrees to be when faced with questions so early in the morning.

"The whole shudder and shake routine you were just pulling is really funny, Dean, but if you're done I actually have a potential hunt.", Dean could tell it was going to be a long day. Sam had on his prissy-mood face.

"Whatever. Where are we going?"

"I was checking newspapers on the laptop, and I think there's a ghost or a poltergeist at this library in Montana. Or it could be nothing, but I think it's worth checking out. It's a long drive, Dean; we should get on with it."

"Montana?", Dean was having a major case of déjà vu.

"Yeah…and it's going to take a while to get there, so…let's go. Or, you could just stare at me as if the state of Montana is somehow unbelievably confusing for some reason."

"Why Montana, Sam? You couldn't check newspapers for somewhere a little bit closer?"

"I don't know, I think I had a dream about it or something. Does it even matter?"

"_Incident_ dream or a different dream?"

"What the hell, Dean? Just shut your mouth and get ready to go."

"God, Sam you're putting me in a bad mood already."

"Oh, I'm _so_ sorry", Sam rolled his eyes and started collecting his belongings from the room.

"Just hurry. I'll meet you in the car.", he let the door slam as he left the room.

"The car…great." Dean sighed and went to the bathroom to take a shower. It would piss Sam off more; wasting time with a shower, but, Dean wasn't going for an extended car ride smelling like feet. Not today, anyway.


End file.
